


Cordial Relations

by privatesnarker



Series: Neon Verona [2]
Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Rómeó és Júlia (Színház)
Genre: Aliens, Androids, Backstory, First Meetings, Gen, Isolation, POV Child, Pre-Canon, References to Illness, Science Fiction, heart failure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 07:38:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4470866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/privatesnarker/pseuds/privatesnarker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Every now and then an unknown face would appear among the servants, a new maid or kitchen boy, but this boy wasn’t wearing black, so he couldn’t have been a servant. He was a grown-up, probably, though he looked small next to Romeo’s mother; even smaller for the fact that he stood with hunched shoulders and bowed head. He did not look like a noble. What had caught Romeo’s attention were his tattoos – he had never seen ones that glowed, and they were everywhere, even on his face.</i><br/> <br/>Three scenes of Romeo and Benvolio growing up together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cordial Relations

Romeo may have been used to playing by himself, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it. He stared in frustration at the small plastic horses that refused to show the slightest bit of excitement over their stable made from stacked video files – of course they weren’t excited, they had watched him built it all along. Playing alone was boring. Yesterday he had convinced his nurse to go outside and let him play with the servants’ children in the yard. It had turned out like all the times before: all their games seemed to involve running or jumping, and running and jumping made Romeo wheeze and sway and grow tired fast. He’d had to sit by and watch them as he caught his breath. Today he had asked again, and had been told that it was no use, and why didn’t he think of some way to keep himself busy?

Just as he considered sulking dramatically to call attention to his plight, he heard footsteps approach from outside the room – the padding of servants’ rubber-soled slippers, and the clicking of sharp-tipped heels in a determined rhythm he would have recognized anywhere. All boredom was immediately forgotten. It wasn’t Sunday and it wasn’t his birthday and it wasn’t Christmas or Easter, but his mother still came to visit! There she was, all spiky silver and brilliant blue, towering on her tall shoes like a warrior queen, far too beautiful to be touched, let alone hugged. Romeo watched her from his place on the ground as she talked to the nurse. He wished she would turn and pick him up, like he had seen mothers carry their children. He wanted to run up to her and cling to her leg and be taken everywhere she went. But he knew he wasn’t allowed to talk or to touch unless prompted, and he knew she was far too important to have any time for him. All that was left for him to do was stare at her in adoration, drink in the way she looked and moved and talked so he would remember it perfectly even after she left.

So lost was he in his entranced yearning that it took him a few minutes to notice there was someone new with her. Every now and then an unknown face would appear among the servants, a new maid or kitchen boy, but this boy wasn’t wearing black, so he couldn’t have been a servant. He was a grown-up, probably, though he looked small next to Romeo’s mother; even smaller for the fact that he stood with hunched shoulders and bowed head. He did not look like a noble. What had caught Romeo’s attention were his tattoos – he had never seen ones that glowed, and they were everywhere, even on his face.

“I will talk to him,” his mother was saying, and she couldn’t possibly mean him? But now she turned and took a step in his direction, and she was looking at him. Romeo was in Heaven.

“Romeo dear, I’ve brought you a friend.” She laid a hand on the shoulder of the boy next to her, and Romeo had to tear his gaze away from her face, “This is your cousin Benvolio. He’s living with us now, and he’s here to keep you company.” She looked like she was about to say something else, and he stared at her imploringly, but all she said was “Be good”, like she always did, before turning away.

She went back to the nurse, and Romeo heard her say “He should be safe, the fine motor control and balance issues have been straightened out, but keep an eye on him in any case.” He watched her departure, and only turned his eyes away after the doors had slid closed behind her, and it was clear she was not coming back in.

Benvolio was still standing where she had left him, looking at the floor. He seemed far too old to be Romeo’s playmate – by Romeo’s estimate, everyone over the age of eleven or so was definitely a different generation, and to be approached with utmost respect; Benvolio might have been fourteen or even twenty, so this applied doubly – but his mother had said so, and her word was law. He stood up from where he had been sitting; it didn’t help much. He barely reached his cousin’s elbow.

“Hello,” he tried, just to get his attention. Benvolio seemed to notice him for the first time, and stared silently for a moment. Then he sat down where he stood, limbs folding very deliberately until he knelt, and now their eyes were almost level. “Hi,” he said, and it didn’t sound hostile or haughty at all.

Romeo held out a hand. “I’m Romeo.” His mother had introduced them already, but manners couldn’t hurt.

Benvolio took the offered hand, as gingerly as if it was made out of glass. “Benvolio. Nice to meet you.”

“How old are you? I’m five.”

Benvolio looked puzzled, and the frown made Romeo wonder if he had been rude without meaning to.

“…Eight.” He sounded unsure. He didn’t look eight. The washerwoman’s son was eight, and while he was bigger than Romeo, he sure wasn’t this big. But his nurse had told him very firmly that it was rude to tell people they looked older than they were, so Romeo didn’t remark on it.

“Do you want to watch a movie?”

\---

“Quit torturing me, did you ask her out, yes or no?”

Benvolio rolled his eyes in false annoyance. “Well if you have to know… I did.”

“And??”

There was no chance he could act unaffected for this, and he had been holding back the giddy smile all day. “She said yes.”

Romeo whooped and made to jump out of bed and hug him, before a coughing fit caught up with him and he had to sit back down. His latest growth spurt had left him perennially exhausted and short of breath, unable to do much but stay in his room all day, sitting propped up in his bed for most of it, with slow excursions through the house as the absolute highlight. Currently he was looking very lively and ecstatic for someone whose lungs were full of water.

“That’s so great, congratulations! I told you she wouldn’t turn you down, didn’t I? I’m so happy for you!”

“We’re not getting married, I haven’t even kissed her yet.”

“All in due time.”

Benvolio would have happily stayed indoors with his cousin all day to keep him company, but Romeo insisted he go out and socialize – under the strict condition that he had to give detailed report of the workings and happenings of the outside world. Of course he had picked up on Benvolio’s latest crush by the way he talked about her, and of course he had done his best to convince him to ask her out, despite Benvolio’s protests that no girl with a shred of self-respect would want to go out with an android. Benvolio couldn’t help but wonder whether his life was no different to Romeo than the movies and serials he watched when he was alone. After Benvolio was done reporting, Romeo would recap whatever film or episode he had seen that day, with the same fervor for a fictional character’s suffering or redemption that he would show for Benvolio’s narration of actual events. If Benvolio would end up getting dumped (again), Romeo would doubtlessly sympathize; but then he had also cried when his favourite serial couple had been tragically separated.

“Hey Ben?”

“What?”

“I know it’s none of my business, but… when she kisses you, will you tell me what it feels like?” The fact Romeo said things like _it’s none of my business_ was the first reason Benvolio would always tell him everything (he tried to imagine one of the mechs backing up his memory averting their eyes for the sake of his privacy, or _asking_ him to undress for maintenance; the thought was bizarre). The fact he assumed she would eventually kiss him was the second.

“Sure. I won’t have to though, you’ll learn for yourself soon enough.” He didn’t need Romeo’s sheepish expression to tell him he had correctly guessed his train of thought.

“I hope so. I’d hate to die without ever… I mean there’s plenty of people I love, like you and Mother and…” he faltered; his old nurse had been let go years ago, and the medical nurses now caring for him were nothing but polite and professional. There was no-one else. “… but anyway, that’s not the kind of love that’s in all the songs and movies.”

“You’ll get that too. You’ll have your surgery and you’ll get better, and you’ll be able to go outside and fall in love as much as you want.” He would, there was no way the surgery could fail, not with Benvolio as a living example of what Lady Montague’s money and determination could achieve. And whoever he fell in love with would love him back, because how could they not? If anything, Romeo was too good for the world outside, a world that wasn’t like his favourite movies, not one bit. It was wild and exciting, but it wasn’t kind.

He was still looking too thoughtful, pushing around the video files strewn all over his bed covers. Benvolio didn’t want to imagine what Romeo thought about during all the hours he spent alone in his white white room and slowly failing body.

He nudged Romeo’s shoulder and grinned at him. “And if things should get really dire, I’ll still be here to make sure you won’t have to die unkissed."

He’d aimed for a grimace, a theatrical shudder and a loud exclamation, but all Romeo gave him was an impish smile.

“Ah, but we should keep that as a very last resort – I won’t be able to fight to stay alive when I can already die happy.”

Benvolio laughed. With charm like that, the boy would get by in the outside world somehow.

\---

“This song is so gooood!” There wasn’t really any feasible reason for Romeo to jump up and down where he stood and wave his arms around, but there also wasn’t any reason _not_ to do it, so jumping and waving it was. Today was good, the music was good, and life was too short to sit still for too long.

“You do know that you’re wearing headphones, right? I can’t actually hear it.”

“But you can dance with me!” Romeo grabbed Benvolio by the waist and a wrist and twirled him around – he was of course aware that he wouldn’t have been able to move him by a hair’s breadth if Benvolio hadn’t gone along with it, and as always he appreciated the indulgence – before settling into his best approximation of a waltz. It wasn’t a very close one, so he simply laid an arm around Benvolio’s shoulders and trod from one foot to the other in time.

“Watch out, you might get stepped on.” Romeo turned towards the unfamiliar voice and nearly did step on Benvolio. Apparently his day was set on improving even further, because that was Mercutio, the Prince’s nephew, and he seemed to be talking to him. Romeo had heard the wild tales of his misadventures, and had seen him pass by the Montague gang for a few words from time to time, and there were no words to describe how badly he wanted to befriend him. He took off his headphones and smiled his widest smile.

“Oh, Benvolio wouldn’t step on me, he’s never hurt me.” He noticed he was waving one hand around aimlessly, and made a conscious effort to stop.

Mercutio sauntered up to them, eyeing them with open curiosity. It was clear enough he wasn’t human from the solid brown eyes and the green freckles, but he also moved in a strangely flowing, weightless way that made him look like a dancer, poised and elegant and casual annnnd that was Benvolio’s elbow in his ribs telling him to stop staring.

“We got robots to do the cleaning at the palace, but none that can double as bodyguards.”

Romeo blinked. “He’s not a robot, he’s my cousin.” Mercutio hadn’t even been looking at Benvolio when he said it. Then again, his reputation wasn’t exactly one for good manners.

“Your cousin? Your family tree must look at least as unconventional as mine then.”

Romeo felt his smile wane. It wasn’t the implied slight on his family but the fact Mercutio was still talking about Benvolio like he wasn’t there that made him feel decidedly less enchanted now. A few weeks ago he wouldn’t even have noticed, but witnessing people’s reactions to and treatment of his cousin had made him sensitive to nuances. Surely Mercutio of all people would know to treat Benvolio like the person he was, instead of a curiosity?

“I’d say we can’t quite match a family consisting only of men,” Benvolio said evenly, expressing what everyone in Verona was wondering or whispering about anyway, before going on: “Also haven’t really noticed any scales and beaks recently.”

Mercutio started visibly. Romeo looked from him to Benvolio and back again in confusion. Mercutio’s nose didn’t even look that beaky, and if “scales” had been a pun Romeo hadn’t caught it. Benvolio wasn’t looking at Mercutio’s face, but was staring intently at the middle of his chest. Apparently he was seeing something that Romeo did not, and Mercutio seemed to know what it was. At least he was definitely paying attention to Benvolio now.

“Careful, you wouldn’t want to commit treason by insulting your Prince.” There were a few too many teeth in that smile.

Benvolio shrugged. “What’re you gonna do, confiscate me?”

The smile turned crooked. “No, I’d order you to keep insulting my uncle where I can hear it.”

Romeo let out the breath he had been holding. Benvolio gave a mock salute. “At your service.”

“Good. Now, any of you two honourable gentlemen ever been inside the palace’s greenhouses?”


End file.
